Beyond Endurance
by JennMel
Summary: Due to circumstances beyond their control, Archer, Trip and Malcolm crash land on an uninhabited planet. With no hope of rescue, no supplies and one of them injured, how can they survive?
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: Hi everyone! This idea has been nagging at me for a while, and so I finally decided to put pen to paper, erm, so to speak. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Beyond Endurance 

Chapter 1

"Nice view." Trip commented, peering below as he piloted the shuttlepod over the vast wooded region.

Captain Archer came and looked over his shoulder, shortly followed by Lieutenant Reed. The forest was indeed beautiful. It seemed to span beyond the horizon, and was so thick, the ground could not be seen. The trees were beginning to lose their summer leaf green, giving them a yellow and red tinge, but not yet enough to make the leaves fall. The terrain was rugged, with the trees growing just about everywhere, on any sort of gradient. The only break in the green was a barely visible river that showed itself at intervals within the forest. Jonathan smiled, "Could be home."

The planet that they were about to land on had been detected three days ago on long range scanners. At first, it had appeared to be perfectly innocuous, but then further scans had showed an incredible power source, perhaps indicating raw energy or a civilisation. Thus, on T'Pol's strong advisement, Captain Archer had put together his away team of three to investigate. Reed frowned, "How long until we reach the source?"

"Shouldn't be- what the hell?" Trip paused mid sentence, frowning as his eyes skimmed over the readings.

"What?" Archer asked.

Trip frowned, "Scans and navigation are being thrown off…it might be a side effect of flying this close to the power source." A horrible juddering sound rang through the shuttle, which turned into a spluttering, and then died, "Oh god! The engine's cut! I'm gonna have to glide us in! Brace for an emergency landing!"

Neither Archer nor Reed made a sound as they hurriedly moved back. Trip wrestled with the controls, attempting to pull up from their sharp descent. The shuttle smashed into the branches of the tallest trees, and then impacted.

"Urgh." Malcolm opened his eyes, blinking furiously to clear the grey veil that seemed to cover his vision. It didn't clear. As his senses reawakened, his throat filled with air that was not oxygen, and his nose smelt burning. Bolting upright, Malcolm yelled through the smoke, "Captain? Commander?"

"I'm here. Can't see a damn thing. The life support's gone haywire, pumping out the smoke from the systems." A bout of coughing interrupted Trip's panicked words, "We've got to get outta here! Captain?"

"I'm stuck." Words fraught with pain met their ears, "Something's crushing my leg – I think it's broken."

Trip swore, "Malcolm? Can you see him? I'm gonna try and get this damn door open." More coughing, worse this time, "Malcolm!"

"I'm on it, Commander." Malcolm's hoarse, but calm voice broke through the sound of burning. He moved to his right, having been furthest from the door, feeling blindly for another person. He thought he felt a hand, "Captain?"

"Yeah." The words sounded strained, as if spoken through gritted teeth.

Squinting, Malcolm cast his eyes around, trying to make out a form. His hands suddenly met metal, heated by the warm atmosphere. A sharp cry from Archer indicated that he had found the thing crushing the leg. Part of the shuttle's shelving had caved, depositing a tonne of weight, easily snapping the brittle bone. Malcolm's head was starting to feel faint as the lack of oxygen started to get to him. He couldn't see a thing, couldn't get a good hold. A sudden yell from Trip caught both their attention, "Get down!"

Not even thinking, both men flattened themselves as Trip finally managed to open the door. A roaring sound filled the air as the fire rushed out towards the oxygen. Smoke and flame alike billowed out. In the split second of clear air, Malcolm grabbed the shelf, and wrenched it off the Captain's leg, causing a pained cry. Both uninjured men then grabbed Archer and flung themselves out of the shuttle. Not stopping there, they crawled away, dragging the injured man as they went. Only until they were over ten metres away, and could only see the shuttle from the smoke, did Trip and Malcolm finally relent. All three men submitted themselves to the hacking coughs caused by the fire, until Malcolm gasped out, "Shouldn't we move? That fire's going to burn the forest."

Trip shook his head, "Cap'n can barely move. 'Sides, ground's wet, wood's sodden. It must've rained recently so it won't catch; fire's not that big."

Jon sat up, using a tree for support, "I thought those shuttle's were meant to have safe guards against fires like that happening." He ground out, half to himself.

Trip frowned, breathing easier now that they were inhaling pure air, "The systems went nuts. Half of them shut down, while the other half started going against all their programming." He shook his head, "That energy, it must've knocked everything out as we got close."

Malcolm scrubbed at the soot covering his face, "Bloody wonderful."

Archer shook his head, and then fumbled at his sleeve, "We'll contact Enterprise and tell them to send a rescue party."

Trip glanced up, raising an eyebrow, "No use, they'll just get knocked out too. Anyway, we glided far into the region that must be covered by the energy, so-" he broke off, watching grimly as the communicator gave a pathetic bleep, and then died, "-no technology will be working anytime soon."

Archer groaned, and leaned back against the tree, "Then we'll have to wait until the fire dies; see what we can salvage."

* * *

The fire exhausted itself around dusk. Leaving Archer sitting where he was, Malcolm and Trip went back to the wreck. It was blackened and still smouldering. "Don't touch any metal, Mal, it's still pretty hot."

Malcolm rolled his eyes, "Most of this shuttle is metal, Commander."

"Trip." He replied absently, "For the last time, it's Trip."

The pair picked their way through the wreckage. The odd thing that wasn't a charred mess was electronic, and therefore, useless. Malcolm shook his head, "No supplies. No emergency packs or first aid…"

Trip lost his patience, "Well what _do_ we have?"

Malcolm slipped his hand out of a small black compartment that used to be under the seat, gingerly holding a standard issue knife between his thumb and forefinger, "This."

"I meant besides weapons, Mal."

He shook his head, "I mean it, Trip, this is all we have. It only survived because it landed in a small niche; _everything_ else just as charred and damaged as the hull of this damned craft."

Trip sighed in defeat, "Let's get back to the Cap'n."

After they relayed what they had found, or what they hadn't found, to be more accurate, the three Starfleet officers tried to figure out what to do next. Archer waved his hand in the direction of the wreck, "You can still see what direction it came from, we should follow that heading, try and get out of this zone."

Trip shook his head, "The controls cut at different times, sending us into a spin. I have no idea which direction we came from." He cast his eyes heavenward, through the trees, "And there was no sunlight, the day was overcast. I can't say where to go."

The three men looked between themselves, none of them wanting to voice the reality. Malcolm sighed, and looked down, "So we're lost."

Trip swallowed, acutely aware of the coming night and their Captain's injury, "Yeah, we're lost."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: So there's the first chapter! Please let me know what you thought - good, bad, whatever - I love to hear opinions!


	2. Chapter 2

Author Notes: Thank you for the kind reviews! I really appreciate them!

Chapter 2

When the first rays of the dawn finally penetrated the branches, Malcolm allowed his shoulders to relax slightly. Without a phase pistol or dry kindling, a fire had been impossible. Moonlight had been scarce, and with all of the sounds of the night, Malcolm had doubted their survival. One saving grace was that the Captain's leg wasn't too badly broken; it seemed to be a clean break, from what they could gather, with no heavy bleeding or broken skin. Malcolm had taken second watch, after Trip, both of them agreeing that Archer needed sleep. However, he knew that they had to get moving soon. The crash site was in no way defendable, and it was bound to attract the attention of curious, perhaps dangerous, native creatures. Gently, Malcolm shook Archer awake, and then proceeded to wake Trip. The Commander blinked dozily, trying to remember what was going on, "We need to find water."

Malcolm's expression was not promising, "The animals went silent just before dawn, and I couldn't hear any indication of the river."

Jon sat up, "Well we can't stay here."

Trip placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "And you can't walk."

Malcolm tilted his head, "I've been thinking about that." Before either man could say anything, Malcolm began making his way back to the crash site, picking his way through the scattered branches broken during their 'landing'. He returned shortly, carrying a moderately straight stick, "We're going to need to splint your leg, sir."

If it were at all possible, Archer went even paler. He closed his eyes in trepidation, "Do it."

Trip nodded, "We're going to need something to tie that on with."

Malcolm frowned a second, and then took out his knife, which he had shoved in his boot. The blade was sharp, and within a few minutes, Malcolm had cut off both sleeves of his uniform near the shoulder seam.

Trip raised an eyebrow, "Well, don't let anyone tell ya you ain't resourceful." He then proceeded to do the same to his own uniform, so that they had four long sleeves of material, "I'll set it, you splint it, okay?"

Malcolm nodded, slightly pale, "Yes, sir."

"Okay, after three, okay Jon? One, two, _three!_" Archer's cry split through the forest, however hard he tried to keep it in.

Malcolm made light work of the splint, tying it tightly, but not so tight that it cut of the circulation to the leg. "We need a walking stick."

Trip nodded, "Right." He disappeared, just like Malcolm had, returning with a tall staff, "You're gonna get a few splinters, but it's the best we've got. We can take turns in helping you, okay?"

Wordlessly, Malcolm and Trip helped their Captain to his feet before he could protest. Placing the staff in Archer's right hand, Trip threw Jon's left arm over his shoulders, "Lead the way, Malcolm."

"And which way would that be, Commander?"

Archer smiled weakly, marvelling at the skill and inventiveness of his officers, "Away from the shuttle," He nodded through the trees, "That way."

* * *

Malcolm could feel the weight of the Captain pressing more and more down on his shoulders. Sneaking a glance at his face, he saw that Archer's eyes were closed, implicitly trusting Malcolm to keep him from falling. For a moment, his mind battled between keeping moving and stopping to rest. The compassionate side won, "Commander? Trip?" 

Trip turned around half standing, half sitting on some buttress roots that he had been scaling, trying to navigate a roughly flat route, "Yeah?" his expression cleared when he saw Archer's face, "Okay, let's rest a bit."

Trip jumped back down, helping Malcolm sit down Archer. Their Captain opened his eyes in protest, "Don't stop on my account. We have to keep moving."

Trip grinned, "Weren't stopping for you – Mal needed a rest."

"He's right, Captain, I'm knackered."

Archer smiled at the blatant lie, but appreciated the gesture. He allowed himself to doze, letting the voices of his officers to wash over him in a blur.

Malcolm sat down heavily on a root, "He's not good."

Trip nodded, "I think it's the smoke and shock of the injury. He's lucky, really."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Trip gave him a crooked smile, "He'll get an adrenalin boost before us."

Malcolm sighed, "We need water. Food we can go without, but all this exercise is going to make us lose fluids."

Trip bit his lip, "That's the thing though, ain't it? We have water."

Malcolm looked up in disbelief, "Are you hallucinating, Commander?"

"Look around us, Mal. In every crevice and crack of these trees, rain water has collected."

Malcolm shook his head, "_Stagnant_ water, Trip, not running. We don't know how long it's been here; the temperature's quite cool. Are we really that desperate?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting there." He paused, "We should get moving."

Malcolm wanted to protest; the break had barely been five minutes, but the tactical officer in him knew Trip was right, "Shall I scout?"

Trip nodded, and went to help up Archer. Malcolm lightly clambered up the roots, gaining a low vantage point. The roots were the simplest and easiest way to climb the small, yet steep, rise in the land, "Sir? You're going to need to climb these for us."

Someone, Jon's optimism managed to shine through, "Piece of cake."

Malcolm crouched down, anchoring himself near the top and reaching down. Trip climbed half behind and half to the side of Archer. The process was long and arduous. By the time they finally managed to get the Captain to the top, their light was almost gone; it had been just gone midday when they had started the climb of less than two metres. Archer was pale, and breathing hard, but Trip had been right about the adrenalin, he seemed far more alert and awake. With barely a word spoken, the three sat against the huge tree ready for another night in their new home.

Malcolm was taking first watch. He stood at the top of the ridge, squinting in the failing light. A horrible sensation of dread mixed with determination settled in the pit of his stomach. They had barely made any progress, and yet if they were to survive, they had to keep moving. It was his job to protect the crew, both on Enterprise and on away missions, but right now, Malcolm couldn't see how he could do that. His face set into a blank mask as his senses tuned into searching for any possible threat. He would get them off this rock – he had to.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: A bit short, I know. I'll try and make them longer. Anyway, please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Author Notes: Thanks for the support! And also to volley for pointing out that very painful typo:)

Chapter 3

As the trio picked their way through the dense trees, Trip allowed his mind to wander. Archer was beginning to support more of his weight on his good leg as both stubbornness and determination began to override the pain. Malcolm pressed on ahead of them, lightly negotiating the terrain as if it was second nature. The smaller man hadn't said anything that day, and Trip recognised the look on his face – at some point, Malcolm had passed the stage of pessimism and now had one single goal to survive this, cutting all emotions out of the equation. Trip wished he could do the same. As a naturally optimistic person, he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay positive. He swallowed, trying to get the sticky feeling out of his mouth and throat, "Malcolm!"

The cry was a call for a stop, with no urgency laced in the tone, so the Lieutenant turned around curiously. Archer frowned too, "We only stopped about an hour ago, Trip, and I'm still good for a while yet."

Trip shook his head, "Enough is enough – we're desperate now."

Malcolm sighed, while Archer's expression only deepened in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Water. We need water. We don't have running water, we don't have purification tablets, but right now, I don't think we can afford to be fussy."

Malcolm nodded, "Wait there a second, Commander." Without even asking for permission, Malcolm began scaling one of the tallest trees in the vicinity. Before Trip or Archer could even yell that he was going to break his neck, Malcolm had jumped back down to the ground, clutching something.

"What's that?"

Malcolm showed them, "Leaves. They've got a waxy, waterproof surface to allow water to run off quickly." He twisted one leaf into a cone-like shape, "Not fool-proof, but it'll have to do."

It took a while to locate an adequate source, which turned out to be an ancient, gnarled tree, riddled with knots and small areas in which water had collected. It tasted foul, but they were so thirsty, it barely touched their tongues. Archer didn't even want to think about what kind of bacteria lived in it, he was just grateful.

They moved on, the lack of a true destination really starting to play on their minds. They had been walking for at least another hour when Malcolm suddenly froze without any warning. Archer and Trip exchanged looks, and one was about to yell out when Malcolm suddenly backed up until he was a metre away, and in one smooth movement bent down, drew the knife and stood back up, tense.

Archer swallowed, whispering, "Lieutenant?"

Malcolm merely shook his head, listening. And then Trip worked it out too, "Where've the animals gone?"

Silence reigned, as if time stood still. A scream suddenly split through the forest, almost human in quality, and a hideous winged creature, with teeth and claws that by all rights were way too big and sharp, soared through the trees only metres away from them, and settled on some low branches. In its claws was a furry creature about the size of a deer – the source of the scream - which it began tearing into, seemingly oblivious to the humans. Warily holding the knife, Malcolm muttered, mostly to himself, "I guess we're not injured enough yet."

Trip forced his constricted throat to take breath, "What?"

"We're not a target for prey."

"You said, 'yet'."

"I know." Without another word, Malcolm began once again picking a route through the trees, giving the gorging creature a wide berth.

* * *

"_Trip._" The low whisper brought Trip out of his light sleep. He opened his eyes, momentarily disorientated in the darkness.

"What? Malcolm?" What was the Lieutenant doing in his quarters? He sat up, the world rushing back in the dim moonlight. "Damn."

"Are you okay, Commander?" Malcolm worried face was half illuminated in the silver glow, giving it a ghostly look, reflecting his tired eyes. "If you want, I could take your shift."

Trip cut him off, "Don't be daft. You should sleep." He shook his head lightly to regain full alertness, shivering slightly. It might just have been his imagination, but the nights seemed to be getting colder with the waxing moon, or maybe it was just the fact that during the day they worked up a heat. A light drizzle hung in the air, clinging to his skin, but not making him more than damp. He glanced over to where Archer was curled, breathing softly. Although his leg had gotten no better, Jon had definitely been pushing away the pain and just getting on with everything, especially since the near miss of the giant bat creature a few days ago. He was beginning to reassume the command of the situation, at least to the point where he was willing to take watch, even if Malcolm wouldn't let him, on supposedly tactical grounds.

The Lieutenant in question settled himself against a tree, in what was probably the most uncomfortable sleeping position Trip could imagine. He suspected it was a mix between Malcolm's instincts of not wanting his back exposed, and his desire to stay awake, just in case. Trip smiled, settling himself crossed legged on some damp moss. While that might have been possible a few nights ago, they were all now so exhausted that sometimes Trip thought that Archer was actually sleep walking during the day.

Absently, Trip allowed his mind to wander back to the Enterprise, wondering what they were doing. He hoped they hadn't sent another shuttle, and that T'Pol had figured out why they had crashed. He trusted his team, and the rest of Enterprise, to get them out of this mess. All that they had to do was get out of range of this energy thing. Trip snorted quietly, yeah right, 'all'. Sure, Starfleet personnel trained for this sort of thing, but there was always a rescue team and a radio if you got into real trouble. He supposed they should be thankful that the crash hadn't left them worse off than it had; one broken leg, no supplies and a bit of smoke inhalation. All in a day's work.

The animals around them quietened, heralding the coming dawn as the nocturnal creatures went to sleep. Trip frowned. A faint sound could be heard through the darkness. He frowned, trying to pinpoint it. It was the sound of running water. It was there for a few minutes, before it was drowned out by the sounds of animals of the day waking up. Truly grinning for the first time in a long while, Trip quickly woke up Malcolm and Jon. "We're near the river! I heard it before dawn."

Archer's expression immediately matched Trip's, while Malcolm was more reserved, "You're sure?"

"God, Malcolm, _yes_. It's right on our path, I'm sure of it."

Archer began to rise, using the tree for support, "Then we're going in the right direction! The shuttle's path ran at a right angle to the river."

Trip shook his head, "No, it was very hard to tell. The river ran a very snaky path. It meandered a lot. We passed in sight of it a few times."

Malcolm sighed, "So either we're going in the right direction…"

Archer sighed, "Or completely the wrong way."

Trip nodded. He neglected to mention that, if they were going to continue this path, in all likelihood they would have to cross the river. He hoped it wasn't too wide, because otherwise, they'd never get Archer across.

They made their way in the direction of where Trip had heard the river. Jon was using the walking stick far more, only occasionally grabbing Trip or Malcolm for support. This made Trip worry. It was too early for the leg to be healing, which meant that the leg was likely going numb. That was not good. The path to the river took most of the day, but they only stopped once to eat. A day ago, hunger had pushed them to sample some of the berries that grew in increasing abundance in the vegetation. Thankfully, the small orange fruits had turned out to be edible, mainly due to Malcolm's observation skills when it came to the eating habits of the small birds of the planet.

Finally, they reached the river. The noise that Trip had heard had not been the roaring of river rapids, but the crashing of water hitting a plunge pool as it fell in a gorge. The men's path had led them to a sort of ledge, halfway between the river above, and the pool below. Due to the natural headward erosion of the river, the water had cut into the rock behind it, creating a slight ledge behind the cascading water. Archer weighed the options. There was no way he would be able to climb up to cross the river above, and down would be almost as hard. Besides, if they did either of those options, Malcolm would have to swim, and that would be an all round bad idea, especially if the man panicked, which would be in all likelihood the inevitable outcome. "So we cross using the ledge." Archer said his decision out loud.

Trip looked doubtful, "Erm…bad plan?"

"You got a better one?" Archer shot back to his friend. Malcolm said nothing, only staring at the plunge pool below where the water foamed white.

Trip shook his head, and sighed, "Fine. How are we going to do this?"

Archer regarded the ledge analytically, "Me and Malcolm cross first. If the Lieutenant is closest to the rock face, he can anchor us when it gets slippery."

Trip shook his head, "That ledge ain't big enough for two people to walk side by side."

Archer gave him a lop-sided grin, "But we only have three legs. You follow after."

Trip folded his arms, "Again, _bad plan_. I think we could make it down. Then we could help you swim across."

Archer was about to berate Trip for his insensitivity to Malcolm's phobia, when he stopped himself, looking at the Lieutenant in shock. After everything they had been through, considering the friendship those two had formed over the years, had he really been the only one Malcolm had told? The Lieutenant didn't meet his eyes. Then again, Archer reasoned, Malcolm had been convinced that he was going to die at the time, so he had probably presumed it didn't matter. Well, he wasn't going to break Malcolm's trust now, "I personally don't want to know what kind of fish with sharp teeth live in there, so we'll be doing it this way, okay?" Trip rolled his eyes, not noticing Malcolm's shoulders visibly relax. Archer sighed, "Let's get this over with."

The process was slow and jarring. More than once, both men almost slipped and fell. It was only Malcolm's iron grip on the rock, likely fuelled partly by fear, that kept them on the ledge. Finally, they made it across. Gently, Malcolm helped Archer sit against a tree, and then stepped partly back onto the ledge to yell over, "We've crossed! Come on!"

Trip tentatively began his path across. He pressed his body against the rock, using both hands to pull himself along, sidestepping. He had made it halfway when he suddenly slipped in the spray. His head cracked against the rock, and his grip was lost. Malcolm and Jon watched in horror as Trip plunged unconscious into the water below.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: I actually paid enough attention in geography to include a competent study of rivers. Be afraid, be very afraid. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

Autthor Notes: I'm so sorry I took this long! I had actually forgotten until my beta poked me earlier today. Anyway, I hope this chapter isn't too farfetched, but the ideas in this chapter are actually a plan I had for a one shot that kinda, erm, drastically mutated.

Chapter 4

Archer watched as Trip's limp form fell and was swallowed by the swirls of white. He immediately tried to move; he had to get to his friend. For a second, he glanced at Malcolm, and then paused. The younger man had a look of pure terror on his face, but it was not the kind of fear that made you freeze. Before Archer could position himself enough to even rise, Malcolm had jumped across the ledge and dived off, clearing the rock and entering the water. In shock and horror, adrenalin made Archer haul himself over to be able to see into the pool, but from this height, and in their dark clothes, he saw nothing.

* * *

Not again, not again, not again, not again. The mantra ran through Malcolm's head in a frenzy as he plunged smoothly into the water, forcing his eyes to remain open. The water hit him in the chest with its icy temperature, and the force of the water from above pushed him downwards. Terrified, he whirled around in the water, searching for a shadow, a swirl of red, anything that would show him where Trip was. Forcing more air to leave his lungs, he dived further, until his hand brushed something material. His eyes burned, and his lungs screamed, but he had to get Trip out. He would _not_…

The weeds whipped at his face as he neared the riverbed, and he tugged on the dead weight, no, the heavy weight, not dead. Kicking with all his energy, Malcolm pulled Trip up with him. They had to reach the surface; they had to reach the air.

The pair broke through the surface, Malcolm gasping, Trip making no sound. A freezing wind slapped at his face as Malcolm manoeuvred Trip so that he could swim them to shore. Dimly, he could hear the Captain yelling. They reached the far bank, and Malcolm hauled Trip up. He wasn't breathing.

_Not again. Remember how._

Immediately, Malcolm began compressing over Trip's chest, trying to get him to breathe. After only two compressions, Trip coughed, water spilling from his mouth. Malcolm turned him onto his side, and then collapsed back to sit beside his friend. The world came rushing back; the cold, the wet. He shivered. Trip opened his eyes a slit to regard him. An ugly gash snaked down the Commander's right temple, still trickling blood. For a moment, Trip looked as if he was going to say something, but then his eyes slid shut, and his breathing evened out as he slipped into unconsciousness once more. A voice penetrated Malcolm's mind; Archer, asking about Trip. He sounded scared. Malcolm looked up, "He's okay!" His voice was hoarse, and shook as the reality of what he had done began to set in. Frowning, he tried to steady it, "Can you make it down, sir? The slope isn't too steep this side of the river."

Archer nodded. "There's an easy route just over there." He gestured, "Can you get Trip there? It'll make a good campsite."

Malcolm gathered his thoughts quickly, and began to drag Trip. He seemed heavier than he had before. Archer was right. The small grove of trees created a good defensible point.

A few minutes later, Malcolm realised that he should probably go and help Archer, but his mind seemed to be working behind his body, or vice versa. He frowned, viciously shaking his head to clear his thoughts, and went to help.

* * *

Night had long fallen, and their small camp was lit by the moon. The only sound that came room the three men was the shallow breathing of Trip. Malcolm hadn't said a word since long before sunset, and Archer had respected that, but now he wanted, no, needed to know what was going through his officer's head. The man had overcome a phobia in a heartbeat, and that alone made Archer think that there was something more going on, "Thank you."

Malcolm looked up in surprise, not sure how to respond. He didn't want this to be a repeat of the conversation on the hull on the Enterprise. Archer continued, "I know how hard it must have been for you, to overcome your phobia-"

"It's not that kind of phobia." Malcolm interrupted. Crap. Did he just admit that? Even his father had never figured it out, no one had, and here he was, close to admitting it. What was it about this man? How did he manage to do it every time?

Archer frowned, shifting his position; he had a feeling this might take a while, "What to you mean? You told me you were scared of drowning."

Malcolm suddenly found the ground very interesting, "I am. I'm bloody terrified."

"Then what..?"

"You know about phobias, right?" Archer nodded, confused as to where this was going, but Malcolm felt he had to explain; he couldn't picture the Captain being scared of anything, "Well, some are passed down, from parents exhibiting their fears in front of their children. Others arise from a person's own experiences; once burned. Mine is the latter."

Archer nodded, "I thought as much, I doubt your father had aquaphobia?"

Malcolm shook his head, quirking a small smile at the image produced by Archer's statement. He sighed. The best explanations were the simplest, "I'm scared of drowning." He fidgeted, "But I'm _terrified_ of other people drowning, people I love."

Involuntarily, Malcolm closed his eyes, an image flashing through his mind. Gently, Archer spoke, "Why are you scared, Malcolm? It'll help. I'm no psychiatrist, but I'll listen."

For a moment, Archer thought Malcolm was going to clam up and change the subject, but for the second time that day, the younger man surprised him, "By the time I was eight, I could swim like an adult. I was the best in my school and entered regional championships, even national a few times. Madeline - Maddy - my baby sister by a year, was almost as good. Our father had us swimming from a very early age. I loved it."

_I've never seen anyone swim that fast!_

_You'll make a fine addition to the navy, son._

_I'm so proud._

_Race you, Mal, come on!_

"When I was thirteen and Maddy was twelve, our parents finally let us go on the annual activity week run by the school in the autumn half term holidays. I'd been begging to go for ages, and they finally relented when Maddy was old enough to come too."

_Come on Dad! Please! You promised!_

_We'll be fine, Mum, let us go!_

_You two be safe, listen to the teachers all the time._

_You have a great time, you hear?_

"The activity week took place in the Brecon Beacons, Wales. It's beautiful there. We did everything – potholing, climbing, kayaking… The day before we were due to leave, my best friend David persuaded me to follow him up to the rapids where the professional canoeists trained; Maddy tagged along."

_I bet you could swim that._

_Come on David, they're gonna notice we're gone._

_Malcolm, come on, let's go back._

_Fine, I'll do it, if you're too scared._

"He ran along the jetty and jumped off, right into the rapids."

_Maddy, go get help, Now!_

"I was so stupid. I jumped in after him. I'd never swum in water like that. It was so cold and pulled you under. I somehow managed to catch a rock and pulled myself onto it. I was near the edge of the river; the water does that, pulls you in all directions. David was floating near the edge, caught, he wasn't moving. I jumped back in. I still don't know how I did it, but I made it and dragged him up the bank."

_David! Wake up! Please wake up!_

"I didn't know CPR; it was just something they did in movies."

_Move over kid; let the man do his job._

"His lips were so blue. They couldn't revive him."

_Jesus, did he jump in after that one? He's lucky to be alive._

"I never swam after, much to my father's disgust. He thought I was being stupid, but every time I went near water, all I could see was David's face, staring up at me from the bottom. I've seen what drowning can do to you, and it's bad, but to see someone else drown is worse. When you're drowning, you black out; you don't have to deal with the after effects. You don't have to see your friends drown."

Archer regarded Malcolm with shock. Throughout it all, the smaller man hadn't looked up once, preferring to look at Trip's form instead. He honestly didn't know how to reply. He couldn't imagine going through something like that. He shifted, saying the only thing that came to mind, "You saved Trip."

Malcolm gave a weak half smile, "Not yet I haven't, but thanks for listening anyway."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: What do you think? You were sort of right in your guess, volley, but I hope I explained it okay. Anyway, please let me hear your opinions, and I'll try and update sooner!


	5. Chapter 5

Author Notes: Your feedback keep sme writing

Chapter 5

Malcolm jerked awake, heart hammering. Wildly, he scanned the clearing, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw both Trip and Archer sleeping in their makeshift campsite. He scrubbed at his face, attempting to get some feeling back into his body. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep when he was supposed to be watching them! Stupid, stupid, stupid. As the week's events began filtering back into his mind, he unconsciously began to run through all the possible scenarios that could have occurred during his lapse in vigilance, each one worse than the last. With their captain incapacitated with a broken leg, and Trip still unconscious from his river episode, Malcolm was the only one who could get them out, and yet his aching limbs and tiring mind tended to disagree; all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week.

Groaning slightly, Malcolm rose in an attempt to gather his thoughts. As his eyes fell on Archer, he felt like screaming. What on Earth had possessed him to tell that man anything? Why was he always telling him so many personal things? His mind soon filled in the blanks. The last time he had admitted anything as close to what he had the previous night he had honestly believed he would die pinned to the hull of their ship by a mine. No, Malcolm shook his head, that was not the case this time, they would get out.

A stirring brought Malcolm out of his thoughts. Jon had sat up, and was regarding him thoughtfully. There was silence for a moment, and then John nodded towards the sound of the roaring waterfall, just out of view, but most definitely not out of mind, "You should get something to drink; I was up earlier this morning to stretch my leg." He quirked a smile at Malcolm's worried look, "I didn't put any weight on the broken one – you would've heard something if I had. And if you're worried about falling asleep on watch, Malcolm, you're no good to us if you collapse of exhaustion."

Malcolm didn't reply, only nodding slightly before setting off in the direction of fresh water. His mind soon wandered to the problem of how to transport Trip if they failed to wake him. The engineer had made very little noise during the night, which alone was a point of great concern. The outspoken southerner just didn't seem right without his accompanying drawl and infectious laughter. Right now, Malcolm would even have put up with his snoring.

As he reached the riverbank, Malcolm crouched down on the damp earth, placing the knife down next to him in case he needed it quickly. Still half asleep, he splashed his face with the frigid water that lapped at the bank in small ripples extending from the plunge pool. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to banish the image of Trip disappearing into the depth of the water. He shook his head, sending small droplets of water flying from his hair into the air. He had to keep his mind on the present; the nightmares could haunt him all they wanted once they were back on Enterprise.

Bending to take a drink from the river, a shadow flitted in the corner of his eye. Straightening, his hand inching towards the knife, Malcolm scanned the area, but saw nothing. Shaking it off as a trick of his sleep deprived mind, he bent to drink-

-the world span, and Malcolm found himself pitching head first into the water. A new pain at his side quickly morphed into one of searing intensity, taking all his breath from him. Malcolm tried to draw breath, but a pressure on his back kept him under. As he breathed in the burning cold water, he lashed out with his elbow in a last ditch reflex action to try and dislodge the weight keeping him under. It worked.

Stars danced innocently across Malcolm's vision as he twisted in the water, scrambling up the sodden bank. He gagged, vomiting up what little he had in his stomach as his body rebelled against his near-drowning. Stomach acid mixed with river water as Malcolm's lungs strained to breathe oxygen. Falling weakly to his uninjured side, Malcolm twisted to see the same bat-like creature from two days ago hunched on a tree branch. It regarded him with amber eyes of startling clarity, and then began preening its slightly damaged wing, before it took off. Malcolm shivered from cold, pain and exhaustion. The intelligence in that creature's eyes had disturbed him, and right now, all he really wanted to do was get back to the others.

Positioning himself to stand, Malcolm almost cried out as his breath was once again stolen – this time by the burning pain in his side. Malcolm hissed as he regarded the wound. Four claw marks laced up his torso, from his ribs to his shoulder blade on his back. In addition, small puncture wounds marred Malcolm's back where the creature had held him under the water. Thankfully the puncture wounds were shallow, and had already stopped bleeding. In fact, they had taken on a cauterised look from what Malcolm could tell when he twisted to see the one on his left shoulder. The gashes left by the initial attack, however, were another story. The slightest movement on his part caused them to stretch, thus eliciting more pain and bleeding.

Frantically, Malcolm tried to work out what to do. If Archer saw him like this, the man would make them stay here until rescue, despite the fact that the chances of that were slim. With all three of them injured, Archer wouldn't risk further mishap by going on. Malcolm listened to the waterfall. It was loud, even at the camp, and he didn't remember yelling, so it was likely that Archer had no idea about the attack; even if the creature had made a noise, he would have brushed it off as belonging to the forest's constant sounds. All he had to do was hide his injury. Malcolm gave a grim smile; that he could do.

Ever since their first day of travelling, the men had taken to only wearing the top halves of their jumpsuits at night for extra warmth, letting them hang around their waists during the day. Stripping off his stained and torn vest which all personnel wore under their uniforms, Malcolm ripped the material so that it was in two large strips. The first, he folded carefully over the wound, flattening it. The other he used to tie the first piece in place. He smoothed them as well as possible so that they wouldn't show under his uniform, before pulling the dark material over it. He made one last check before making his way back to camp. It should be okay. Hopefully Archer would take his change in attire as some kind of duty thing kicking into his mind, or maybe that he was just cold, and the uniform was so muddy that any blood seeping through would go unnoticed. Malcolm sighed. He hoped.

* * *

Archer looked up, frowning at his officer's dishevelled appearance, "What happened to you? You're soaked!"

Malcolm smiled weakly, "I lost my footing on the bank. It's okay, sir, the water's shallow at the edge, I'm fine."

Archer nodded, "We should get moving." He gave Trip a sidelong glance before rising to his feet with the aid of his walking stick and the tree behind him.

Malcolm, meanwhile, bent down over the still engineer, hiding a wince as his wound sent a spike of pain through his body. Placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, he called gently, "Trip. Trip, I need you to wake up for me. Please Trip." Malcolm sighed and made to rise, when he saw the body stir.

"Mal?" The voice was so weak and hoarse, almost lost on the wind, making Malcolm sure he had imagined it.

"Trip? Can you hear me?" A shiver ran through the body of the blond man, but then the eyes cracked open a degree, revealing dull blue eyes, "Listen, Trip, I know you're tired, but I need you to stay awake. We need to move, and I can't carry you, not that far. Nod if you understand."

Jon came up behind Malcolm, "How is he?"

"He knows we're here, but his skin is freezing to the touch. Sir, I think he's going into shock, if he hasn't done that already. Add a concussion…" He trailed off, "We need to get him walking. He needs medical attention."

"'Kay." The murmur was barely audible, but it came from Trip nonetheless.

Malcolm nodded, and then used all his strength to pull Trip into a sitting position, placing his friend's arm around his neck. Trip's eyes were closed, and his head barely remained upright. Malcolm's breath caught in his chest as his side screamed in pain, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Swallowing to prevent any further nausea, Malcolm instructed Trip, "You're going to have to help us stand. I'll support most of your weight, but you need to help me, okay?" Trip gave the slightest of nods, "On three. One, two, _three!_"

Malcolm pushed up from the ground with Trip next to him. On the other side, Archer had grabbed under Trip's arm as soon as they were high enough to be within his reach. When they reached full height, Malcolm swayed, his vision greying for a second before clearing; thankfully it merely looked like he was adjusting to Trip's weight, which he was now almost fully supporting. He gave his Captain a nod, telling him to let go. Through gritted teeth, Malcolm regarded the path ahead, "You should go first sir, and we'll follow. Can you make it?"

Archer nodded, giving a weak smile, "I'll manage; you just keep up."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Sometimes I feel I should give them a break, but then I just shake it off as a moment of madness:)... Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

Authotr Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews! Your support is amazing!

Chapter 6

"Commander, we've lost contact with Shuttlepod One."

T'Pol rose from her place in the Captain's chair, "Explain crewman."

The man at the science station gulped, frantically analysing the readings. "We lost contact with it as it entered the range of the energy source. It's interfering with scans."

T'Pol inwardly let out a sigh of relief; the new crewmembers had a tendency for dramatics. She would have to speak to the captain about it upon his return. "That's not all Commander," Ensign Bailey called over from his station. T'Pol tensed. Bailey had been with Enterprise since it first left Earth four years ago; he wouldn't cause undue concern, "Final scans indicate a full systems failure before the shuttle completely entered the field surrounding the source. Scans may not be able to pick them up now, ma'am, but all other evidence suggests they crashed."

"We are getting no readings at all from with in the field?"

"No ma'am."

Ensign Travis Mayweather twisted in his eat, "Commander, I could pilot a rescue team down in Shuttlepod Two. If all the systems cut out at once they would have had to do an emergency landing, they might need help."

Although outwardly T'Pol showed nothing, inwardly her repressed emotions were fighting a fierce battle with her Vulcan logic. The logic won. "We cannot risk another team. What happened to the first pod will likely happen to the second. There is also no evidence to say they are injured. We must follow protocol. If we do not hear from them in the next fourty eight hours, I will send out a rescue team on foot."

* * *

Hoshi and Travis sat in amicable silence in the mess hall. It was three in the morning, but neither could sleep. It was the second night they had ended their shifts with no knowledge of where their three crewmates were. It wasn't the fact that they weren't there to have dinner with, although Malcolm and Trip had become a permanent fixture in the ensign's evenings; after what they had all seen in the past four years, it was hard not to make friends. It was more the fact that they knew that they weren't coming back for definite.

Being ensigns, they were privy to both sides of the table, so to speak. They knew more that most crewmembers, being present on the bridge when meetings took place, but they were also part of the lower half of ship society, mainly the whispers and rumours. The newest crewmembers, those who had not taken part in the mission to the Expanse, were quick to judge T'Pol, saying how the Vulcan was heartless, and wanted the position of captain for herself. It was rumours like this that just made the situation worse, with tensions already running high from the absence of their Captain.

As for the engineering and science staff, they were barely seen anymore. The stench of caffeine followed any that surfaced, and dark shadows marred their faces. All were frantically working on a solution to get their Chief Engineer back. Not one of them were seen to smile.

And woe betide you if you stepped into the gym. Armoury staff and MACOs alike could be seen training harder that ever as the inevitable forty eight hour mark, and rescue mission, loomed. Armoury staff were always edgy when Lieutenant Reed got himself into something, but add to that the MACOs tension still raw from the loss of their former superior, Major Hayes, and that was just a recipe for over thirty human weapons.

All in all, Hoshi and Travis were feeling rather useless, there being no need for a pilot or linguist in a situation like this. So there they sat, waiting for a change in the situation. Knowing from experience that it would only get worse until the crew was whole once more.

* * *

"I'm so sorry ma'am." He sounded it too, T'Pol mused as she dismissed the MACO who had led the rescue party. She watched as the team dejectedly headed for decon, before heading off.

"She doesn't even look upset." muttered a junior MACO as they moved off.

"Leave off." Ensign Bailey growled, "The Commander's doing all she can. We all are."

"That may be," He protested, "but we found nothing on that planet; not a scrap of metal. She knows as well as we do. They haven't got that long if-"

The MACO was cut off as he was slammed into the wall by the armoury ensign, "We don't give up till we find them – even if we are just bringing home their bodies. The Cap'n would do the same for any of us."

The younger man struggled for breath under Bailey's grip, "Ensign!" Sergeant Kemper, another MACO had doubled back, making Bailey reluctantly release his grip.

The younger MACO coughed, and then straightened, "Sir, he-"

"I didn't see a thing, Ferris. Just a piece of advice, learn how this ship works. This isn't school; we look out for each other, but not those who insult our family."

* * *

T'Pol sat in the mess hall near a window, looking down on the planet they were still orbiting. A few tables away, Ensigns Sato and Mayweather sat side by side, each nursing a cup of coffee, but apart from that, it was empty. Dawn would be rising on the planet where their friends were, ten nights having passed since their disappearance. Today she would have to send a report to Starfleet, something she had been putting off. "May I sit here, Commander?"

T'Pol started; she hadn't heard anyone come in. Standing over her table was the ship's CMO, Doctor Phlox. "Of course."

The Denobulan smiled one of his wide smiles and took his seat, "When was the last time you meditated, T'Pol?"

The Vulcan looked up sharply, "If I wanted a doctor's advice, I would have gone to sickbay. I am fine, thank you." Her tone was clipped and sharp.

"I apologise, but one day you must accept that I ask you only in friendship. These last days have been stressful for everyone on this ship, never mind its Commander. Really, the intake of stimulants aboard this ship must have easily surpassed records held by sporting academies."

T'Pol frowned, "If the crew have been taking drugs, it is your duty to tell me, doctor."

Phlox sighed, "You really are tired. I was referring to the coffee addiction everyone on this ship seems to have at the moment. Really, humans are strange creatures, and I've known them intimately for over four years."

T'Pol made a noncommittal noise, and then mentally shook herself, "If you excuse me doctor, I have reports to review." She rose; only to half the Denobulan catch her wrist.

"I have the utmost faith in you, T'Pol, all the crew does."

The Vulcan gave a small nod, before exiting the mess hall under the gazes of three sympathetic pairs of eyes.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Just thought you'd like to know what's going on over at the other end! Please review, and I'll update soon!


	7. Chapter 7

Author Notes: Thank you for the reviews! Everything is reaching a climax now! Malcolm might seem a bit OOC, but in my opinion, he is in character considering the really really nasty situation.

Chapter 7

Archer turned as fast as his leg would manage as a pained cry sounded behind him. Malcolm was on the ground, breathing hard. Trip lay next to him, blinking owlishly up at their Captain as he hobbled back. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Fine sir, I tripped." Cursing his stupidity, Malcolm sat up, rubbing his ankle. He was sure that any clotting his wound had done in the past hours had just been undone. As Archer was checking that Trip was okay, Malcolm made to stand up, when he saw just what it was that had caused his fall, "Bloody hell."

Protruding out of the ground, uncovered by Malcolm's boot, was a huge hunk of metal. Oddly, there was not a speck of rust on it, which made Malcolm's mind first jump to a worst case scenario; they had gone around in a circle. But on closer inspection, it was unlike anything Malcolm had seen. The metal's surface had an odd, iridescent sheen to it, and when the light caught it, it seemed as liquid. Archer frowned, "What is it?"

Malcolm frowned, pulling away more clods of earth and moss, "I have no idea, Captain. It seems to be part of some sort of structure."

"We'll stay here. Check it out Lieutenant." Archer ordered. Malcolm could have rolled his eyes if they had been on the planet for a day or two more. Trust that man to slip back into explorer mode at the worst possible times. If it wasn't clearly hostile aliens, it was deserted planets.

Nevertheless, Malcolm followed the pattern of metal which glinted along the ground, running at a right angle to their original path. The metal pieces seemed to be markers of some kind, perhaps indicating a boundary of some sort. Hacking his way through the trees and undergrowth, Malcolm followed the trail until he came out into a small clearing. Malcolm's mouth fell open. Towering in the glade was a huge infrastructure, constructed of the same metal as the piece he had stumbled on. Despite its grandeur, however, it did look worn and decrepit, as if it had been without occupation for a very long time. Tentatively, in case of any defensive attacks from the structure, Malcolm moved towards the opening. Any door that might have been there was long gone.

As Malcolm allowed his eyes adjust to the dark, he was glad he hadn't gone another step. Contrary to what the tall structure might suggest, a tight spiral staircase led immediately downwards. Wary of his injury, Malcolm let his curiosity get the better of him, and he descended the stairs.

The stairs led down to a singular room, circular in design. It appeared to be some kind of research station. Beyond the cracked screens and frayed wires lay a complex array of consoles, many still active. Lights still flickered from the stations, but Malcolm was drawn to a singular screen that was still in working order. Rotating, surrounded by many readings in another language, was a sphere, coloured blue. Attached to the sphere was a small red dome in its upper half, and within that was a flashing blue dot, right in the centre. Malcolm blinked as the diagram zoomed in and flattened out to a more complex diagram with different shapes. Again, the red dome was a key feature. The screen continued to rotate between these two images. And then it clicked.

Malcolm slid to the floor, all his energy leaving him. They had gone the wrong way. Of all the stupid… This station was the blue dot, the red dome the range of the energy, the tower above him a way of transmitting. It was a bloody experiment that some _idiot_ had forgotten to turn off. Malcolm swallowed back any tears that threatened to fall. He couldn't lose it, there had to be a way to turn this stupid thing off. Standing, Malcolm swayed, blinking fiercely as his vision greyed again. At first he attributed it to the blood loss, but then a wave of nausea hit him full force, and he fell to his knees, heaving empty retches until it subsided. Vomiting was bad enough, but it was far worse when you had nothing left to throw up. Viciously wiping away the tears that had involuntarily formed in his eyes, Malcolm stood once more. The light seeping down into the room from the door was fading, and his first priority was Archer and Trip.

* * *

Archer settled against the wall of the huge structure, watching as Malcolm gently laid Trip on the ground next to him. He watched as the younger officer and rose, blinking rapidly in what seemed like an attempt to wake himself up. The reality was only just setting in for Jon. It was his fault. He had led them this way; the _wrong _way. It was his fault Trip was as injured as he was. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm going down there to see if I can turn it off, sir."

Archer didn't argue. Instead he produced one of their communicators, "We can contact Enterprise on this."

If Malcolm was at all surprised that his captain was still carrying around a useless piece of technology after almost ten days, he didn't show it.

* * *

Malcolm slammed his hands against the wall. They wouldn't stop shaking. He had already cut himself with his own knife three times. Curling them into fists, Malcolm closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. It was becoming harder to breathe too; his chest felt like someone had wrapped iron around it, and was tightening it every hour.

The technology was way beyond his understanding. Even if he could read the symbols that made the alphabet, he doubted whether he'd have much of an advantage. Malcolm turned to throw up again, only succeeding in spitting out a small amount of bile that burned his abused throat. He was getting worse. In the back of his mind, Malcolm knew his body was getting into a very dangerous state, but he had to keep trying. He shivered. He had to get them out.

* * *

Jon turned to regard Malcolm as he came up the stairs and sat down heavily across from him and Trip, He didn't meet Jon's eyes, "I couldn't fix it." His voice was hoarse, "I couldn't turn it off. I'll keep trying; I just thought you'd want to know, sir."

Archer shook his head, "No, Malcolm, you already spent all last night trying. We need help. You're still uninjured. Without us hindering you, you could make it back to the crash site in half the time it took us to get here, and then you can continue on. We need help. If you take the communicator, you can contact Enterprise; get a rescue team. If you leave now, you can make it across the river before nightfall."

It took Malcolm's mind a while to process what Jon had just said, and then even more time to calculate it all. A frown flitted across his features. They wouldn't survive that long, hell, _he_ wouldn't survive that long. The idiot was trying to be selfless, screwing over Trip's life in the process, and unknowingly, Malcolm's too. Malcolm blinked against the stars that danced across his vision, "No sir." Malcolm tried to control his breathing against his constricted chest; he didn't want to die alone, "I'm more use here. I should get back down there."

Malcolm rose as Archer shook his head, "I'm not giving you a choice Lieutenant - go."

"No." The reply was short with no thought or formalities behind it.

Jon was getting desperate now; it was usually Trip, not Malcolm who questioned orders when he thought it best. Generally, when it finally came down to it, Malcolm always followed orders. Until now. "Lieutenant." He adopted a dangerous tone, "You are aware that you are disobeying a direct order from a superior officer?"

Malcolm looked down to meet his Captain's eyes, "Yes." There was no affliction in the tone.

"_Lieutenant!_"

"_No!_" Malcolm yelled, "I'm not bloody well leaving, so get used to it!"

Although shocked, Archer pressed on, desperate for at least one of them to survive this, "You'll face a court martial for this-"

Malcolm snorted, "And who's going to be the judge? That tree over there?"

"You're out of line Lieutenant."

"Oh, fuck off Archer!"

Jon blinked, not even attempting to catch Malcolm as he stormed down the stairs to the room below. He had never been talked to like that by any subordinate – let alone Malcolm Reed.

Malcolm collapsed forwards as the stairs met the floor. Shadows darted and flickered, dancing with the stars on his eyes. His elbows buckled as his hands shook so much they wouldn't support his weight. His whole body shivered under the cold sweat that bathed his overheated skin. No longer were the gashes on his side painful, but the wounds on his back screamed and seared, as if the very flesh was being eaten away by snakes and fire. He tried to vomit, but his throat closed, causing tears to stream down his cheeks. Panic, rage, despair, terror, fury, desolation. All mixed up until it came bursting out. Malcolm staggered up, picked up one of the huge lumps of metal that littered the floor, and hurled it at the screen. He smashed his fists against the metal and glass until his skin was in shreds. Sobs wracked his body, caused by the pain and the emotion that had built within him. As his muscles tensed, his joints collapsed, his vision dimmed, and his body went incomplete shutdown, above, Archer's communicator flared into life.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: One more chapter people! Please let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long! My beta had been distracting me... Thank you for all the kind support.

Chapter 8

Jonathan Archer blinked against the bright white that surrounded him, "Good morning Captain."

Archer turned his head as the light ceased being a painful glare to reveal a woman in a blue uniform, smiling down on him. The world shot into focus. He was lying on a biobed in sickbay. Behind where the woman was sitting was another pale figure asleep; Trip. Archer sat up slightly, noting the lack of feeling in his leg – sometimes you had to love doctors and their drugs, "Hoshi?"

The tiny ensign smiled warmly, "How are you feeling Captain? I thought I'd drop by before my shift."

"How long...?"

"You were brought in yesterday. As soon as the energy field collapsed we contacted you and sent a rescue."

Archer nodded, memories flicking back and forth within his mind. The last thing he remembered was hearing a shuttlepod land.

"How's Trip?"

"Phlox says he should be fine. I didn't understand most of the technical stuff, but from what I could make out, he had hypothermia and a severe concussion. No complications though. And he also said your leg should heal fine."

"Good."

Hoshi gave him a strange look, "Don't you want to know about Lieutenant Reed, sir?"

Archer frowned. That man had almost cost them their lives. He was lucky the energy source failed, or they'd be dead by now. A severe error in judgment, and which ever way he looked at it, he would have to have a long chat with Malcolm, likely ending in some kind of disciplinary action, "I suppose he's already been released from sickbay?"

Hoshi's eyes widened slightly, "I'm so sorry Captain; we all presumed you would have known."

A horrible sick feeling reared in the pit of Jon's stomach, "Hoshi…"

Hoshi looked at her hands, small tears spiking in her eyes, "He's in surgery with Phlox now."

"_Surgery!_ What the hell for?"

"It looks like he was attacked by something, Phlox said. His body was already under strain from exhaustion and blood loss from a wound on his side, but there were eight puncture marks on his back. Whatever attacked him had venom in its talons. When the rescue team found him, he wasn't breathing, we had to transport him straight to sickbay. They've been in surgery for four hours now, and the last time it was eight; there had to be a break in between. Phlox said that he didn't want to do another one, but Malcolm's organs started to fail, and they had to do something." Tears ran freely down Hoshi's cheeks, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "I overheard Phlox tell Commander T'Pol that he doesn't think Malcolm will survive."

Jon stared at her in shock. He couldn't speak; his throat was too constricted. How long had Malcolm been walking around injured? His mind flicked back to the morning after the river incident. Malcolm had been acting oddly, but he had put it down to the night before. Archer closed his eyes; that had been the morning Malcolm had started wearing the top half of his uniform again. How could he have been so blind? Oh, god, how could he have yelled so much? Malcolm was just as bad, hell, worse off than the rest of them, but being the pig-headed officer that he was, had pretended that he was fine.

His attention was drawn away by a small gasp from Hoshi, shortly followed by a weak southern accent of his friend, "What the hell is going on?"

* * *

Trip sat cross-legged on a biobed, watching Malcolm sleep. It had been four days since he had woken up and learnt what had transpired since his fall; his memories of the few last days were sketchy at best. Malcolm had yet to wake up at all, although Phlox had pumped him with so many drugs, Trip wasn't surprised. Trip had been released only an hour previous, but he wasn't to return to duty for another few days. Archer, meanwhile, had been oddly quiet, enduring the treatments for his broken bone.

Trip sighed. None of this should have happened; they should have been more careful when checking out the power source – you'd have thought experience would have taught them that much. Phlox entered, taking some readings and adjusting a few settings on Malcolm's bed, tutting, before moving on to Archer, "It's time to start your physio, Captain, my worms have done as much as they can for you bone, now we must work on the weakened muscle." Archer nodded with a grimace clear on his face. Phlox continued, "I will help you to the bars, and then we will try some walking."

Trip gave his friend an encouraging smile as Phlox guided Jon to around the corner to where there was some equipment set up. Trip went back to his thoughts, fiddling with the padd in his hands that detailed what remained of the power source from the planet, but not truly reading. Something moved in the corner of his eye, but when he looked up, Malcolm seemed still. Suddenly, the screen above the bed started to change in readings and colour, and Malcolm's eyes snapped open.

Before Trip could register what was going on, Malcolm had scrambled up to a sitting position, only to cry out in pain from the wounds on his torso. His eyes were frantic and panicked, but unfocused, and his breathing had gone from deep and steady to huge gasping breathing, as if his mind was telling him he could not breathe. Quickly pressing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, Trip tried to get him to focus, hoping that the now blaring machines would alert the doctor, "Malcolm! Malcolm, listen to me, you're on Enterprise, everything's okay; we're safe." Malcolm's silvery eyes flicked to his, trying to focus. Trip smiled, "Good, I need you to slow your breathing, calm down. Take shorter, deeper breaths."

Malcolm's breathing began to even out as Phlox appeared at Trip's shoulder to take over. Shakily, Trip moved back to allow the doctor to help his friend. He knew how Malcolm had felt – the horrible feeling when you wake up and think you're still lost in the forest; Trip still hadn't been able to escape it, even after four days of waking up in sickbay.

Realising Jon must still be over by the bars, Trip went to go and help his friend back to bed, figuring the Denobulan might be occupied for a while. Archer was staring at the floor gripping the bars when Trip came round the corner; he seemed to be oblivious. "Hey, Jon? You okay?"

Archer jerked his head up, "Sorry, Trip, did you say something?"

Trip quirked an eyebrow, "You're the captain of this ship, Jon, you'll get a full report from the doc when he's done."

"I know." The defensive tone had returned. Trip and Jon had been arguing about what had happened down on the planet as soon as Archer had explained what had happened.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud, Cap'n, quit the guilt trip already! What happened down there was no one's fault! Unless you're a poisonous alien creature, of course." Trip sighed as he went over to help his friend walk towards the bed, "Just talk to him; don't let it hang over you."

* * *

It was a further week until Archer finally gathered the courage to approach Malcolm. He had kept making excuses, which to be fair, considering Malcolm's current state, hadn't been too hard to find – in addition to being quite weak in body, Malcolm himself always seemed to be avoiding eye contact or 'sleeping' when Archer was near, clearly guilty and dreading the consequences of his actions. However, Trip had returned to his duties, and Archer knew that he couldn't delay anymore; he was a Captain and should admit his mistakes. So, when Phlox went off to prep the decon chamber for a returning away team, Archer approached his armoury officer, who was sat up reading something from a padd.

Lieutenant Reed was still very pale, almost gaunt, although he was positively glowing on comparison to how he had looked but a few days previous. Jonathan sat down on the biobed to take the weight off his still bad leg, "Malcolm?"

Archer watched as the Lieutenant jumped out of his skin and then attempted to get off the bed, only to have a firm hand clasp his arm. Archer sighed, "Please stay put Malcolm, I doubt Phlox will be pleased if you do yourself harm."

Malcolm stopped trying to get up, instead warily regarding his Captain with a look that clearly expected an impending storm. Silence reined over two very fidgety officers, until Malcolm spoke first, "I'll accept any disciplinary action you think fit, Captain. I'll file for a transfer if you'd-"

"You're apologising?" Archer asked in wonder, "Malcolm, you got me and Trip across dangerous terrain with no supplies and kept us alive for _ten days_, even though you were injured yourself. You got us off that planet, you disabled the field. I lost my temper with you, and I shouldn't have. All I had was a broken leg – you had some alien poison running through your body. Malcolm, I'm sorry."

Malcolm stared at his Captain, "But-"

"No Malcolm. You were under the influence of an alien substance, in addition to being under circumstances that would make anyone fall apart. There is no way I could ever court martial you – we couldn't afford to lose you from the Enterprise, and Trip would probably kill me," This elicited a weak smile from Malcolm, but this soon turned into a worried frown.

"Sir, about my thing with water…"

"I won't say a word, I promise, although it would be great if I could find out things about you without us being in a situation of mortal peril."

Malcolm awarded him with a rare grin, but any further conversation was prevented by Trip bouncing into sickbay, whining loudly about Phlox's choice of movie, seemingly oblivious to any change for the better in the atmosphere.

**FIN**

Author Notes: It's done! Please give me your final thoughts:)


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